


Here, take my sweater

by rhysiana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Sunsets, The FJ Cruiser is not a soccer-mom mobile, Werewolves as Space Heaters, this is my fandom hill to die on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Derek steals Stiles away to the beach for the day, and they end it with a little bit of feelings realization at sunset.





	Here, take my sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Moving Tumblr ficlets over for posterity. Written in response to the dialogue prompt: "Here, take my sweater." I think we all know the sweater in question.

Derek fished two bottles of water out of the cooler he’d thrown in the back of the Cruiser before he’d picked Stiles up that morning (“kidnapped, Derek, kidnapped me from my own home, nay, my very bed!”) and settled on the bumper as he waited for Stiles to follow him up from the beach, where he’d lagged behind Derek due to his inevitable distraction by a rock or a shell or thinking he saw a kelpie in the waves or who knew what this time. He cracked the top on one bottle of water and tossed the other at Stiles as soon as he got within range.

Stiles caught it smoothly, which meant he was only paying a fraction of his attention to his surroundings, and Derek bit back a smile. “Thanks, man,” Stiles said, tossing his sweatshirt into the back of the SUV in a shower of sand. “Shit, sorry.”

Derek shrugged, letting himself lean against the edge of the open rear door and pulling one foot up onto the bumper with him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles twisted the top off his water and tilted his head back as he drank. Derek looked away, studying the grains of sand and shell now scattered across the floor. It was probably the most innocuous material to have ever made a mess on the rubberized surface, and Derek found himself wishing, suddenly, fiercely, that he had actually bought the car for its intended use, that he really was the kind of guy who needed an off-roading vehicle to strap his surfboards to and still have room for all his camping equipment. That he needed to be able to easily hose down the interior because he regularly came home with too much sand covering everything after a weekend adventure to deal with any other way, instead of the mud, blood, and mystery fluids that his car ended up covered in entirely too regularly.

Stiles hoisted himself up to sit fully in the rear storage area, legs still dangling over the bumper as he looked back over the beach to where the waves crashed on the shore. The sun was just starting to set, tingeing the undersides of the clouds peach and gold and pink.

“Thanks for today,” Stiles said, eyes still glued to the ocean. His cheeks looked a little red as he said it, but that could just as easily have been the sunburn.

Derek nodded, just a short gesture of his chin, and took another drink of his water before he ventured, “Thanks for coming.”

There was a lot they both weren’t saying, and they both knew it.

Stiles snorted. “Like you gave me a choice.” He picked up his hoodie and shook it vigorously over the parking lot, making a face as seemingly endless sand showered out of it. He’d taken it off earlier in the afternoon, when the sun was high and he’d gotten too hot, and then hadn’t noticed until too late that the tide had come in and a wave had already soaked half of it where he’d tossed it onto the sand next to his shoes. “Still wet, ugh.”

Derek took it from him and draped it over the back of the seats so it’d dry faster, and Stiles slanted him a crooked half-smile before he turned his attention back to the sunset. Unable to help himself, Derek glanced down at where Stiles’ hands gripped the edge of rear compartment, showing off the always surprising cording of his forearms, so rarely seen out from under all his misleadingly oversized layers. Goosebumps rose along Stiles’ skin as Derek watched, and he realized Stiles must have been hoping he could put the sweatshirt back on now that the temperature was dropping again.

Derek fished under the seats behind the cooler for a second, then bumped his arm against Stiles’ as he directed his own attention toward the horizon. “Here, take my sweater.” Casual. It didn’t have to mean anything. Stiles was cold, that was all.

Stiles glanced over at him in surprise as his hand closed on the sweater, and then he smiled and grabbed it eagerly, rubbing it against his face. “This one! I’ve always wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked!”

Now it was Derek’s turn to blink in surprise, and Stiles’ face definitely turned a red that had nothing to do with how much sun he’d gotten.

“Um, let’s just forget I said that,” he mumbled as he tugged the maroon sweater quickly over his head, hiding his embarrassment as fast as he could. His hair, ridiculously windblown before, was half-flattened, half-mussed by the time he tugged the sweater down, and Derek reached over the brush it off his forehead before he even thought.

Stiles’ eyes were very wide when he finished, and Derek swallowed, wishing he hadn’t done it, but also not finding it in himself to regret it now that it was done. Finally. He’d known the unspoken thing growing between them for years was bound to break one way or another at some point. Brushing Stiles’ hair off his face while watching sunset over the ocean was certainly nicer than anything he’d let himself imagine.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles said, and it was low. Steady. A little nervous, but also a little… playful? Not scared, definitely, and Derek was grateful, because hearing Stiles say his name in fear at this moment might have broken him.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m still kinda cold.”

Derek knew a cue when he heard one. He lifted his arm and Stiles slid over to fit himself against Derek’s side, burrowing into his offered warmth with a murmured, “Mmmmm, werewolfy space heater,” as Derek settled his arm around him and held on, smiling into Stiles’ hair. He never wanted to let go.

They stayed there until the sun had long disappeared over the horizon and the stars appeared to dance over the water instead.

**Author's Note:**

> [In defense of Derek's Toyota](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/post/164902901278/because-i-was-stuck-behind-an-fj-cruiser-the-other)


End file.
